Hoping So
by EssaTheTwerp
Summary: Ginny was happy—so ridiculously happy that she could barely contain herself anymore, was about to burst at the seams. She had rushed up to bed every night since finding out about this pregnancy (probably confusing Harry endlessly), but tonight, she resolved, would be the night. One-shot. Written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, Maths Assessment Three.


**Hoping So**

Ginny huddled by the fireplace, knees pressed tightly to her chin and hair hanging low in her eyes.

She felt awful—her stomach was churning and gurgling, loudly making it known that Ginny wasn't taking care of herself the way she should be. She wanted to get up, go up and find a bathroom so she could just _get sick_ already, but her hands and legs were trembling so thoroughly she was afraid that she would fall down on the way.

Miserably, Ginny thought of how much she wanted Harry by her side. Of course, he happened to be caught up at work.

But then again, he was _usually_ at work.

And then she felt like a terrible wife, because his job was important to him and it wasn't fair to blame Harry for being needed. He was fighting former Death Eaters and other bad (or just stupid) wizards—defending the wizard population. She was proud as hell of what he was doing every day…

But sometimes—sometimes she wanted the Boy-Who-Lived to go away for a while, and let Harry go home, rest his feet, and cuddle with his wife. She had Quidditch, of course, but now—she rubbed her hand subconsciously over her stomach—she had no clue what the future held.

And that was made a thousand times worse by the fact that she was pregnant. _Pregnant_.

She still hadn't told Harry (and that was probably why he was still working late nights, and telling him would make things so much _easier_ on her), because the thought terrified her. He was a good man, of course, and he'd support her no matter… But she was terrified, because she wanted so badly for him to be happy about this baby.

Ginny was happy—so ridiculously happy that she could barely contain herself anymore, was about to burst at the seams. She had rushed up to bed every night since finding out about this pregnancy (probably confusing Harry endlessly), but tonight, she resolved, would be _the night_.

She just couldn't take the anxiety pulsing through her, pushing and shoving for relief that she just couldn't give. She couldn't keep this news bottled up anymore—stress wasn't good for a pregnancy in the first place, and she needed to make appointments and tell everyone else before she got too big and they had to release the news to the press, or the _Prophet_ would have a field day speculating (which they'd done since before Ginny and Harry had even gotten engaged) and she had to think about buying baby things and getting maternity clothes and—_stop_! She managed to interrupt herself, realizing that continuing in her spiel would probably cause her head to burst.

Ginny jumped when the door fell open and then pressed a hand over her racing heart; how had she not heard her husband Apparating in or coming up the walk? Had she really been that invested in her own thoughts? Groaning as she stumbled to her feet—this pregnancy thing was _already_ taking a toll on her body, ugh—Ginny smoothed out her robes and gingerly took a seat on the couch.

When Harry entered the room, he was all smiles—his dark black was messy and windswept, despite the fact that he probably hadn't been out in the wind at all. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face in response. Harry _did_ that to her, made her happy and giggly (although she could do without the giggly part, thank you very much). It was still a relief how, after all these years, he could still look at her and she would melt. Hopefully, she had a similar effect on him.

"How are you, Gin?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her top as he shucked his robs off. Ginny's smile a faded a little bit, but she resolved to keep the nervousness at bay for now.

"I'm well, dear. Could you sit down? I, um, I have something to talk to you about," she murmured shyly. Harry stopped, suspiciousness already—his wife was many things, but _shy_ wasn't one of them; at least, she hadn't been in many, many years. If Ginny had something important to say, she would usually just say it.

Finally, he made his way to the couch and slung a comforting arm around Ginny's shoulders as he sat down, concernedly running a hand through her hair. She shot him a watery smile and then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately thinking the worst—god, she couldn't be sick, could she? He'd never really thought to ask about wizard sicknesses, but now he regretted it. _Terminal illnesses can't be just a Muggle thing,_ he thought, stomach twisting into knots.

"No, no! I'm fine Harry, I promise," she rushed to reassure him, knowing her husband well enough to predict that he was imagining her untimely demise or, well, anything that was blown completely out of proportion. He breathed an immense sigh of relief, nearly sagging against Ginny.

"You scared me," he grinned shortly, then went back to petting at her hair (which was something he'd grown to do _all the time_, almost subconsciously). After a short pause in which his nerves decreased significantly, but Ginny's only elevated, Harry murmured, "What was it that you wanted to tell me then?"

"Well," said Ginny slowly, her tongue starting to feel fuzzy and awkward in her mouth. She swallowed thickly and continued, "Harry, I'm, uh, I'm… pregnant." She closed her eyes, a bit terrified as to what the look on his face would be. God, she wanted him to be happy about this. She needed him to be happy about this unplanned baby, because when she'd stared down at the pregnancy test and it read positive, her heart had practically _glowed_ with happiness.

Several seconds drooped into a thick, tense silence… and then Harry gasped and crushed Ginny in a hug. She burst into laughter as he pressed kiss after kiss to the crown of her head, beaming so intensely the shine from his teeth could've blinded someone.

"When did… oh hell! Gin, why didn't you tell me sooner? I mean, how far along are you? How long have you known about this?" he demanded, each word meshing together as he talked faster and faster. Ginny laughed a little and pushed him back, her nerves completely settled. Of course, she now felt rather silly about being so afraid before—couldn't think of a good reason as to why she _would_ have been scared, really.

Catching her breath, Ginny explained, "I've suspected for about a week and a half, but I only took the test a few days ago." Here, she took a moment to collect her thoughts and then murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, love. I was just… scared, I suppose; scared that you wouldn't want the baby, or that you would be disappointed." Harry looked at her dazedly, eyebrows pushing together in adorable confusion, as if he couldn't comprehend _not_ being happy about this baby.

"Well, I'm just glad you told me now," he beamed, shoving his glasses up his nose before scooting backward on the couch so he could face her stomach more directly. Chuckling at her peeved look, he hesitantly cupped his hands across the still relatively flat expanse of her stomach. "I can't believe this. We're going to have a _baby_," he said incredulously, then, "Your mum is going to be so happy."

Ginny giggled, imagining the look on her parent's faces. They had a granddaughter already—three if you counted Teddy, and Molly always did—and George but with every new little one, and there were surely going to be many more, more joy was brought into their lives. The war had cost them so much, and babies being around lifted everyone's spirits.

"Get ready for betting pools between my brothers about the gender," she warned him, eyes twinkling merrily at the thought. Harry chuckled and then swept his legs under him so they were sitting across from each other, hands lightly clasped between them.

"What do you think it's going to be?" he asked, causing Ginny to groan, head falling back in exasperation.

"Oh my god; Harry—I don't even know if I'm 8 weeks along! Don't start with genders already!" she teased, although her mind was already spinning. Harry grinned, his eyes imploring her pleadingly. She paused, breaking down from his beseeching gaze and admitting, "I sort of want a boy."

"Really?" he blinked, seemingly surprised.

"Yes," Ginny laughed. "Why're you so surprised? I'm not my mother—I'd be perfectly happy with all boys."

"It's not that! I just… I kind of want a girl," he admitted sheepishly. Ginny cocked her head to the side; she did _not_ expect that. She supposed maybe Harry wanted a little girl, redheaded, like his mum. The thought did make her smile, too—a little girl toddling around, red hair and green eyes bright and happy…

"I would be happy with a girl, too," Ginny grinned, leaning forward and slanting her lips across his in celebration. Once they pulled apart, she got to her feet and headed to the kitchen. "I've got dinner ready!" she called over her shoulder, looking forward to the delicious, comforting lasagna she had readied earlier—and they would _need_ some comfort in preparation for telling her mum.

* * *

"Don't be nervous, Ginny," Harry said, nervously matting down his hair (which didn't calm or taper it at all, of course). Ginny shot him an amused glance as she retrieved the Floo powder.

"I'm fine, love," she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. He was much more anxious than she was—honestly, Ginny was excited beyond belief. This baby hadn't been in her plans, she had wanted to wait at least another year, but now that it was happening, she was going to go all out with her pregnancy.

They each stepped into the fireplace and called for the Burrow, dusting their robes off and laughing lightly as they pick up a rickety chair and set it back in its place. Molly insisted on putting it there, and refused to move it, no matter how many people fell flat on their face after arriving.

They could hear the sounds of many people from the yard, and happily made their way to the garden. Most of the family was there, the only exception being Charlie (who was still with his dragons, of course), meaning it was the perfect moment to make a big announcement. Ginny had written a letter to Charlie that morning, hoping it would arrive not too late after she told the rest of the family.

"Hey mum," Ginny called over the hustle and bustle, smiling when Molly brightened at her entrance and waved, but didn't move to hug her daughter due to the wriggling toddler on her hip. Victoire was excitedly clapping her hands, laughing along as Molly sang nonsense to her. She had inherited the coveted red Weasley mane, but it was softer and shinier, as Fleur's had been.

Ron and Hermione were bickering over something or another at the corner of the table, while Teddy was running around Arthur and Andromeda excitedly. As soon as he saw Harry, though, he bolted towards him, attacking his legs with reckless abandon. Ginny imagined that Teddy would be an amazing cousin for her boy (or girl).

Judging by the grin on Harry's face, he was thinking similarly.

As Ginny made her way to the center of the garden, Harry took Teddy's hand and followed her, swallowing his anxiety. It was silly, he knew it was—the family would be ecstatic about another baby—but this was his _family_, not just his in-laws, and while marrying Ginny had sealed the deal on him becoming a permanent member of the Weasley clan, taking part in creating an entirely new person was a different matter entirely. This was his child (damn, he was going to be a _father_, which was insane in and of itself), and he wanted everyone to be as happy about it as he was.

"Everyone," Ginny said, just loud enough that she managed to catch everybody's attention. Clearing her throat, she continued eagerly, "We have an announcement."

Arthur, Andromeda, and Molly all leaned forward, a hungry (and mildly scary) glint in their eyes. Bill, Fleur, George, and Angelina—who was sporting a small baby bump—all beamed, suspecting that their little ones would have one more cousin to play with all too soon. Hermione and Audrey, Percy's fiancée, were also grinning, but Percy and Ron looked clueless as to what the news could be.

Ginny smiled and winked at her mum before proudly saying, "I'm pregnant."

The response was instantaneous.

Molly shrieked and ran at Ginny, one arm thrown wide, the other still clutching Victoire to her bosom. Everyone else shouted their congratulations, laughing at the spectacle of Molly hugging Harry, Ginny, Teddy, and Victoire all at once—although, if Molly's arms were big enough she would probably choose to hug all her family at once.

"Oh, this is so exciting! And Georgie and Angelina are having a baby in just a few months—they'll be best friends! Two more little ones now," she beamed, and then pulled away before turning to let a squirmy Victoire down. The little girl immediately ran off to her mother, somehow managing to get dirt smudged all over her in the distance between Molly and Fleur.

Ginny embraced her mother again, squeezing as tight as possible because she was going to give her mum another baby to hold, and Molly had wanted to be a grandmother as soon as her children were old enough and it was proper to _have_ children. "Love you, mum," she murmured, pressing a kiss to her wrinkling cheek warmly.

Molly beamed once more, and then made her way to the kitchen, where she distinctly did _not_ wipe away tears from the corner of her eyes. Ginny turned to Harry and winked, then taunted, "I told you that would go well!"

Harry rolled his eyes and scooped Teddy into his arms, playfully bumping Ginny's hip before following the little boy's happy demands to play. Ginny watched them for a moment, and then wandered over to Ron and Hermione, who immediately congratulated her again.

"I didn't think you guys would have one yet," Hermione beamed, "But it fits perfectly. You'll be brilliant parents." Ron nodded earnestly, but then seemed to get distracted by a chocolate pasty. His wife rolled her eyes and jabbed a thumb at Ron, as if to apologize.

"Well, what about you two?" Ginny asked, hiding a grin. Hermione turned pink and Ron choked on the pasty, half-chewed food spraying across the table. Ginny shrieked and ducked out of the way, glaring at her brother and wiping away the mess gingerly with the napkin.

"Ron," she complained, but was cut off by her brother's waving hands.

"No! No, Gin—you can't just, just _spring_ that stuff on me!" he insisted vehemently. Hermione coughed and fluffed at her hair, obviously at a loss as to why to say. "I mean," Ron continued, glancing at his wife uncertainly, "It'll happen one day. We know it will… just not now. Yeah. Not now." With that, he coughed once more, wiped the remaining spittle off his chest, and made his way toward Harry, who was keeping Victoire and Teddy occupied.

The tots were both filthy already, caked in mud from the garden. Ginny saw Fleur throw a devastated look at her daughter (probably at the state of her expensive dress, more than anything), and barely suppressed the giggle threatening to burst out of her.

Hermione had already turned to Percy, discussing something that had to do with the Ministry (and blah, Ginny definitely was not interested in _that_), so Ginny looked around and caught Angelina's eye. She made up her mind and shifted seats so she was sitting closer to George and the former Gryffindor Quidditch captain. "Hello George, Angelina," she nodded, fluffing out her robes when she sat down.

"Hello, sis," George drawled as Angelina echoed him. "I suppose I owe you congratulations, then?"

"I suppose you do," Ginny laughed, rubbing at her belly absently—it was still hard to believe there was a little man (or woman) growing _inside_ of her, but she guessed it would be easier to accept once her stomach was huge (and _ugh_, wasn't that an awful thought). "I bet they'll be best friends," she grinned.

"What are you hoping for?" Angelina asked, reaching for her drink. She and George were adamant on keeping the gender of their baby a surprise, and Ginny still needed to have that conversation with Harry, because _she_ was adamant that they would find out if this baby was a boy or girl. She had to know, or she'd burst—Ginny had never been good with surprises.

Plus, she wanted to decorate the nursery specifically—maybe green with monkeys if it was a boy, and… red with ladybugs, if it was a girl. Yeah, Ginny liked that.

"A boy," she finally admitted, "But Harry is hoping for a girl. And before you ask, _yes_, we are finding out the gender as soon as we can."

"Well," Angelina grinned, "I wish you luck, Ginny."

* * *

Their little corner of the hospital was relatively quiet, and for that, Ginny and Harry were thankful. It had been a normal labor, lasting only two hours, but St. Mungo's had informed the new parents that they'd had a hard time keeping away sneaky reporters.

Grateful for the Healers' competence, Ginny quietly pressed her lips to Harry's cheek and cradled their newborn son closer. He was beautiful, with an already-unruly tuft of black hair peaking from underneath the blanket. His chubby little hands were curled against his chest.

His eyes were—thankfully—closed at the moment, but they had the distinct shape of Harry's eyes. Ginny hoped they turned out to be the same color of green, but suspected they might be brown, a sentiment which she think Harry shared.

"He's gorgeous," she sighed softly, thumbing the tip of his nose carefully. Harry hummed in agreement, not wanting to speak and ruin the moment. He had never been so very peaceful, with his wife and son, healthy and happy and _together_.

"I bet he'll be the best of friends with Freddy," she continued, her voice lowered so it was just a whisper.

"The best," Harry agreed, thinking gleefully (although he was pretty damn terrified as well) of the ensuing pranks… although with a name like _James Sirius_ he only had himself and Ginny to blame.

Choosing a name hadn't been hard. Ginny had been the one to suggest James, because she loved the name anyway, and Harry had pleaded with her for the use of Sirius. She didn't have any qualms with that name either—but she was relatively easy to sway when it came to Harry's begging, too. She knew that he'd have the ability to ask for any particular name he wanted… should they have another boy, at least (because she was going to _insist_ on Lily Luna Potter if they ever had a girl—the name was all too beautiful to pass up).

Of course, thinking about having another child was pretty far off—at least, she _hoped_ so…

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This was written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, Maths Assessment 3 over at the HPFC Forum.

Please, drop a review with your thoughts! ^_^


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